THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 201, 25 August 1937, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MEN ABOUT TOWN.) A correspondent who signs himself "Hough Gough" writes to "Touchstone": Can any of your readers translate the enclosed English sentence? There is a A TUFF GHAI. recognised phonetic authority for the spelling of each word—that is to say, there are analogies in English for each such spelling: "Yough saugh tough bough coughs goughing ough sloughough moughing and loughing loughdlough doughn tough the trough cloughse tough the lough, and then gough tough tough houghses foughthough ough the roughd." The Auckland Harbour Board has adopted the Continental 24-hour-day system. Under the said system the terms a.m. and p.m. need not be applied, midday HARD TIMES. being 12.00 hours and midnight 24.00 hours. This may be all right for "the Harbour Board, but some of the lads who work 011 the wharf will take time to become accustomed to the expression, "Eighteen decimal nought nought hours, gentlemen, please." —B.C.H.

Foreign news usually contains something novel, and not the least in this sphere was presented during the week in the form of a graphic description of a WHAT'S IN duel between two BudaA NAME? pest gentlemen. They were named respectively Zboropjaj and Prueler. The poor chaps fought fifty-one rounds with swords, after which, owing to their exhaustion, the scrap was declared off. By the way, for the benefit of those who may seek the information, the name Zboropjaj comes from the Hungarian word Zboropjaj. meaning a Zboropjaj, and (for the benefit of radio announcers) it is pronounced Zboropjaj. —B.C.H.

Talked yesterday with a mail from Ciisborne, where, he said, there was prosperity. He talked for a space of the breaking up of the large estates, and of PLOUGH AND the luxury cars that some SWORD, of the squatters had adopted. Then he showed me a hook on the history of the Wellington Regiment, which many eons of Gisborne joined at the outbreak of the war. He told me of Gisborne's favourite hero, who was sent into the blackness of Xo Man's Land with two fellow East Coast shepherds to find the place where the Turkish gentlemen were placing their bomb pits. The trenches had not long been occupied and there was a good carpet of grass to move upon. Away went the trio, but only one returned, the aforementioned hero. He ran the last twenty yards and jumped into the trench, blowing and gaspintr. "Well, sir," he started, "I didn't find them pits. I think they are over to the left." He stopped for breath. "No. I could see nothing, but, by cripes, the paddocks over the back there would carry two sheep to the acre easy.'' That, said the man from Gisborne, was one of the famous speeches of the war.—Albus.

"Touchstone" writes: "Where his death occurred yesterday." This sentence, in a newspaper report, should have read "where he died yesterday." Every 0 DEATH! day time and money are wasted by roundabout ways of saying things. ''Occur" is a misused word. It means to meet the eye, to be found here and there, to appear, and hence to happen or take place, to become a fact, befall, as "mistakes occur on every page." Mark Twain used the word in his "Innocents Abroad" in the following sense: "No, they have no railroad accidents in France. But why? Because when one occurs somebody has to hang for it." (This was written long ago.) Writers and speakers should place great restraint upon themselves when they have anything to write or say about death. All efforts to avoid the words death, die, dead and died are to be condemned. Passed away, passed over and other equivalents are better left unsaid. Joined the great majority, of course, is well out of date. A humorous periodical made sport of it for years by referring to everybody who died as having "joined the great minority." """

| We are to have a new sort of army. I am not old enough to know whether the oldtime volunteer system was successful, but presumably it was no SOLDIER. more successful than is the present-day effort, since compulsion was resorted to not manv years before the big war. The main impresone gets of the old volunteer evstem. an impression gained from the reminiscences of the grey-beards who formed a part of it. is that it was a succession of marauding parties. The volunteers were not well supplied with the things they needed, and. in particular, the supply of food at the camps seemed always capable of improvement. The usual method of improving it seem? to have been raiding the nearest hen roosts and pig stves. I don't know whether the modern volunteers ever steal sucking pigs when they are supposed to be learning in camp the stern business of defending the country, but in the old days, if the oft-told tales are correct, thev stole lots of piglets. The nights (quite unofficiallv, of course) were often late and riotous, and! in general, a "good time was had by all." I knew only the territorial type of camp, where discipline was stricter and all hands were supposed to behave themselves. Cutting the guy ropes of tents in the opposing lines was about the only form of nocturnal recreation, and it was altogether a rather tame sort of business. There was petty thieving, of course. There never was anything that claimed to be military in character that couldn't produce something of that kind. In the army if you want a thing you requisition for it if you can't steal it from the other fellow. The troops aren't dishonest—it is merely an old Armv custom. If you want to hear of this trait in excelsis talk to any of the men who went overseas. One supposes that the modern volunteer does his share of it when in camp. It is really an essential part of the soldier's training, and may be included under the heading of initiative. When it comes to the real business and you want a thing and supply headquarters are far away—well, there's only one thing to do about it, isn't there?—B.O'X.

CURSORY RHYME. Mary had a little lamb. According: to the rhyme (Which only shows the stringency Of nrices at the time). It followed her to school one day Upon the traffic boat. And thus was thought the progeny Of some bewildered goat. So possibly we now excuse The things that Mary did. The lamb in all its childishness Was treated as a kid. It didn't quite matriculate. And yet 'twas plain to see It used to show intelligence Of manifest degree. The epilogue is saddening And contravenes the rhymes By introducing matters Appertaining to the times. Poor Mary's little animal Eventually choked. (It wasn't till the inquest that They found the teacher smoked.) —B.C.H.